Burgundy || HS

dix-sept

Days passed in which Jane continued with her work and schooling that was beginning to get bad, Harry continued writing, and they mainly stayed away from each other. There was no anger involved this time, they just each had other things to do. Harry had press conferences to attend about Die With Me becoming a movie and he was asked to sit in while the script was being written. Jane needed to keep her mind off of being at work basically alone, so she stuffed herself into books.

They told each other that they cared for each other at the end of the night through hollow texts and phone calls. The one day Harry had off to breathe, he wanted to breathe it with Jane. So, he showed up to the library with his normal skinny jeans and brown coat, possibly a sweater underneath, with unkissed lips and pale skin. Jane sat over at the corner and had taken up Mrs. Johnson's job of reading to the children.

Although her social skills with children was nothing short of awkward and rejective, she still read fluently and smiled and answered questions. Harry watched her while leaning on a bookshelf. The W-Z bookshelf held his weight perfectly fine. It was a Sunday, the day children went every week to have three books read to them. Jane was still in the middle of the second by the time Harry got there, but she deathly wanted to finish when she looked up and saw his smirk.

Jane looked over at one of the co-workers, Steve. A handsome man that she could call her friend that Harry did not like from the start. He was always subtly flirting with Jane and though Harry had yet to call Jane his girlfriend, he knew it was wrong to flirt with another man's girlfriend, regardless of their title. He and Jane had been seeing each other for nearly two months, did they really need a title?

Mid December was approaching and it was dangerously cold outside. Jane's eyes looked devoid of the stars Harry had grown to love and he wondered if his absence or the knowledge that she was taking Emilee's job was the cause of that. No, he knew the reason. He knew it was school. NYU wasn't helping Jane, it was hurting her. Holding her back from her dream of moving to England. But there would be other factors holding her back. Mrs. Johnson. Harry. Then, he thought, maybe writing the book would set her free.

And, in that moment while listening to her quietly read to kindergartners, Harry decided that Burgundy was just as wrong as it was right. He would lose the first woman he'd have the potential to love, but he'd also be setting her free, and her happiness was more important than New York or school or even him. It will only hurt for a little while, he told himself more than he told Jane, only a little while.

She'd finished reading and his legs had fallen asleep from standing for so long. Jane walked over to Harry and the sparkling stars reappeared. He needed to tell her before she found out. He needed to tell her soon. Then, the feeling of something in his pocket reminded him that he was going to tell her―because he had to. Jane reached up and kissed his lips, it took a second for him to come back to the world and kiss her back, but she refused to notice.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I wanted to take you to the worst place ever," he smiled lightly and looked down into her eyes.

Eye contact made Jane highly uncomfortable most of the time, but it was okay when it was with Harry, because she knew that his eye contact was caring and not judgemental. "Way to woo me, Styles. Where is that?"

"Where the worst book ever was written." Jane squinted her eyes. "Just get off of work."

"Harry―"

"Let's get outta here," he tempted. "Let's go, Jane." His hand rested on her cheek and he kissed her forehead. "Let's go," his lips mumbled against her forehead. She slowly nodded and went over to Steve to ask if he would take over for her. Of course, he agreed, and she told everyone that she felt sick and that she wasn't going to be able to stay at work for the day. Some of them knew she was lying but they somewhat liked Jane and her work ethic (and her not-boyfriend), so they let it slide.

Harry held her hand in the cold while they walked to his truck. It needed a car wash from the snow and dirt sloshing on the side of the vehicle, but it didn't matter. She sat in the passenger's seat and occasionally watched Harry's left hand grip the steering wheel while they turned and went onto the highway. She didn't ask again where it was and once they got half way there, Harry finally got tired of fighting the urge of putting his right hand onto her thigh, so he did.

She liked the warmth his hand brought, even if it wasn't her favorite one. Her left hand placed over his. Glances nor words were exchanged after the gesture, it seemed they were just used to doing small things for each other. It was an hour away, the drive that is, and Jane had nearly fallen asleep by the time they arrived. It was a park. A small park with a population of nil and Jane wondered what they were doing at an empty, snowed out park. "We're here," he announced. "Have you eaten?"

Jane began to answer while walking in the direction Harry was guiding her, "Wait," he said but they didn't stop. "Nevermind, I know you have. You ate toast with peach jelly and eggs scrambled because you didn't have time for sunny side up."

"How did you know that?"

"I remember you falling asleep on the phone last night without setting your alarm. And you have some jelly on your jeans there, love." He tapped her thigh where the jelly had dried in its place and they continued walking while Jane bit her lip to contain a smile that was already approaching.

"Well, thank you for taking your observations beyond my favorite flower."

"You're welcome." They reached a frozen pond without any snow next to it, so they sat. Harry brought his legs up to his chest and opened them, allowing Jane to sit in between. His knees held her shoulders and it took a few minutes for her to relax and trust that she wouldn't fall back and crush his balls. "I've come here so many nights with a journal and a bottle of whiskey that I wonder if my liver has given up and if there are enough stars to account for the times I've been here," he began.

Jane didn't move and listened to him recall a time before her. A time before them. "Early mornings and late nights with red eyes of either being hungover the night before or high the morning of. I was―am a mess. But, you know, those nights and mornings made something out of me, Jane. They didn't make me a man, no. They made me a character. A secondary character in my own book with whiskey as the main star. A complete mess."

Jane sighed and moved from in between his legs to beside him. He laid down on the cold ground and she placed her head on his stomach. He was always warm. His fingers worked through her hair while he talked. She could feel the vibrations of his voice from his stomach and his breaths were uneven because he wanted to get all he wanted to say out in one breath, but he just couldn't. "I'd written a book through so many drunken nights and high mornings, and it became something that it was never meant to be. A masterpiece."

"Sometimes a masterpiece needs to be written by the imperfect to even be considered something it shouldn't be."

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next chapter has smut (thx to my pal) and i'm sure you'll like it. PLS GO VOTE FOR MY NEW STORY COMING SOON CALLED "LAYING ODDS", YOU'RE GONNA LOVE IT. ok, that's all. i love you and wooo for an early update!!!